Defeating Fear
by Sulhadahne
Summary: The Cult has taken Walter, and to save him, Henry must face something more frightening than Silent Hill - his father. Will fear take Henry's last happiness from him? Or will he finally tell Walter the truth? WalterxHenry 11x21 sequel to Troubled Waters


Silent Hill

Defeating Fear

The Ashfield Heights apartment building had been very tight for money recently. There weren't many people looking for a place to live near where so many people had died mysteriously, some in the building itself.

Frank Sunderland sighed and set his coffee cup down. The situation was pretty dire; some people had moved out after the event, and counting the apartments of those who'd passed, there were seven empty in the building. He knew there were others thinking of going, too. Even those who didn't believe in ghosts felt too much pain being near this place.

He couldn't leave even if he wanted too. Money was tight for him, he was old, and well... he had promised himself he wouldn't leave this place.

_Just in case he comes back._

Though the chance of that was slim.

The box was gone - it had disappeared during the disastrous week of mass murders a while back. Frank tried not to dwell on it now, just as much as he tried forgetting the crime scene tape, the bodies being zipped into bags. It didn't work mostly.

A knock came at his door. Surprised, the old man paused for a moment, wondering if he was hearing things. When it came out, he called out. "Just a minute"

It was a greater shock when he opened the door to see a young woman, blonde haired and slightly freckled, smiling at him.

"Hi," She lifted her hand and waved two fingers, like a peace sign. "I'm looking for a place to stay."

"I don't think this one is really a good choice..."

Frank hated to ruin his one chance at a new customer, but he would never forgive himself if he let her go in unwarned.

But the woman just smiled and turned towards the door. "It's all right; I like the feel of this place." They were standing outside the hall to the third floor. "I'd like to go look around for a bit, if you wouldn't mind."

For anyone else Frank would've said no, no, no. But something about this girl said she could take care of herself - maybe it was the knife not so subtly hidden in her pocket, or the strength in her cocky smile, or just the way she carried herself. Something about her seemed strong.

So he nodded. "A - All right." The girl thanked him and entered the hall, a strange skip in her step.

Frank was halfway down the stairs when he realized he hadn't given her the key.

Henry was sitting at the kitchen counter, eating a bagel and reading a magazine - one he'd asked Walter to procure for him, a video game fan magazine - when someone knocked on the front door. He set down his breakfast and his reading, brushing his hands off.

"Coming." It was probably Eileen asking him and Walter to come visit, or maybe Cynthia was bored and wanted someone to talk to.

To his shock and awe it was neither woman, but a shorter one who seemed a bit younger, maybe just turned 20. She smiled at him disarmingly, and without saying a single thing, stepped into the apartment. Henry, mouth open, stared after her in shock.

Who was she?

The blonde looked around the apartment with sharp eyes. "I like what you've done with the place." She turned to the wall where the trunk used to be, now replaced with a short bookshelf holding his and Walter's favorite games. She knelt to look at them. "Dude, Metal Gear Solid. Great game." Looking up, she smirked at him. "Good taste."

She put the game back on the shelf and stood, continuing her look through the room. "The air is nicer. You use Febreeze or something? Douglas swears by that stuff, but I just told him to stop smoking, and then the house will smell nice."

Henry stared quietly at this woman feeling slightly on edge. She didn't seem... dangerous or anything, just weird. Why in the world was she here? Henry didn't realize he'd asked the question aloud until she looked up and smiled at him.

"I wanted to meet you Henry."

Heart thumping, he walked around the counter into the kitchen. "How'd you..."

"Know your name?" She smiled and put a hand on her chin. "If this was a movie this would be the part where I'd say, 'Because I know everything about you' and then there'd be a dramatic scene where I reveal some secret past or something."

Henry stared with an eyebrow cocked.

_This girl is weird._

Shaking her head, she turned towards him and laughed. "Life's not that easy though. There's not much I can tell you... not yet." A soft smile came over her lips. "I guess I should just say... don't be afraid." They met eyes, and something in Henry's heart felt... strange. "A little advice. You can't wait for things to happen without doing anything at all. Nothing will change if you don't make it."

The woman walked past him and he didn't stop her. Just as she got to the door, hand on the handle, he turned.

"What's your name?"

Pausing, she looked over her shoulder at him, a curious look on her face. She shrugged.

"Cheryl. Cheryl Mason."

Then she was gone.

Henry stood outside Eileen's door feeling a little nervous, a little confused, and quite a bit skeptical. Behind him - and he meant right behind him, they were close enough to bring color to Henry's cheeks - stood Walter, his new guard dog, following him wherever he went since that day he'd been somehow hurt.

Henry had no memory of that day, only of waking up in bed with Walter's fiery, protective eyes on him. But ever since, he'd gone nowhere without the blond... not that he was complaining; he just wasn't sure how that would affect tonight.

Eileen had invited Henry over for dinner with her and Richard, as what Henry could only assume to be a buffer between the two. He knew the girl had a "crush" on the older man, and probably had wanted to invite him over without seeming like it was a date... something silly and girly like that. So, Henry had been invited to make it inconspicuous.

_But now Walter's coming too._ Henry felt his stomach clench. Now both of them would have to face the people they cared about. _It's almost a double date. _He frowned nervously.

The door opened, and Eileen's red face appeared. She was smiling a half smile that showed a bit of nervousness - Henry smiled back, his own pulse rushing.

_We're both screwed._

"Henry!" The door opened wider to show young Walter rushing forward, but the boy slid to a halt at the sight of his taller self, blushing and stammering a greeting. Henry glanced behind him and was glad to see Walter wasn't grimacing angrily or otherwise intimidating the small child.

"Behave." He whispered, and Walter turned and looked at him funny. Henry flushed and wondered when they'd become close enough that he could order him around. To his surprise, a little play frown came to Walter's face, defensive yet friendly. Heat rushed to Henry's stomach as he realized how close they really had become.

The two stepped in and Henry caught sight of the other member of their dinner party - Richard was leaning against the counter with a drink in his hands, eying Walter with dark eyes. Before he realized what he was doing, Henry had sidestepped to stand between Richard's gaze and Walter - subsequently blocking Walter as he tried to step forward. The blond blinked, confused, as Henry flushed embarrassedly, and Eileen simply watched knowingly and laughed. Even Richard cocked an eyebrow and snorted.

Rushing away, Henry stammered an apology and turned to Eileen, ready for any kind of distraction. He tried to ignore the fact that Walter's eyes remained on him.

Dinner was looking interesting already.

It was strangely quiet for a dinner of five once they all sat down together.

Eileen was staring at her plate, glancing up at Richard everyone so often, before ducking down again. She often tried to start conversations but they usually ended in noncommittal grunts from either Walter, Henry, or Richard.

Walter was sitting at the other end of the table, simply eating, totally ignorant to the tension in the air around them. Richard was glaring at him as he ate, making Henry wonder how he even knew what he was forking into his mouth.

Little Walter was a little scared, looking up at the adults in confusion every so often, before returning to eating.

And in the middle was Henry, half torn between leaving, hitting Richard in the face, and jumping over the table at Walter to demonstrate who the man was with and make everyone else back off. Red faced, Henry's mouth fell over.

_Where did that thought come from?_

"So... how are things, Henry?"

Unable to currently summon normal thoughts, the man shrugged and glanced down at the table. Eileen frowned, turning slowly to Richard.

"Uh... how about you?"

"Eh?" The man glanced at her slightly, but it wasn't long before he turned to glare at Walter again. The blond had looked up when Eileen started speaking. "... been pretty _dead_, I guess." He ripped into the next bit of steak violently, eyes sparking. Henry clenched his hand around his fork. Walter's gaze ducked back down to his plate.

Eileen glared at Richard then, and Henry felt his heart lift. _Bless her_. At least he wasn't the only one who thought old grudges were just annoyances at this point.

"I've been good." Henry suddenly said. Eileen's eyes flew back to him. "... uh..." Heat flushed to his face and old instincts to stay quiet rose... but the hope on Eileen's face made the lump in his throat fade. "... started writing again."

"You write?" The woman didn't really seemed surprised. "That seems like something you'd like." She smiled.

Nodding, Henry tried to think of something else while he stared at half eating sweet potato. The man found his mouth had dried and talking was harder than ever.

"I write as well." Surprised, Henry's head flew up to meet Walter's gaze. The blond glanced away thoughtfully. "I liked it, when I was young. I didn't often get the chance..." He left it at that, though Eileen and Henry didn't need to hear it to know why. Richard just glanced away, grunting.

"What do you both write about?" Eileen asked. Walter and Henry glanced back over to her, before Walter looked to him.

"Uh..." In the spotlight again, Henry felt his stomach clenched. "... poems. Songs."

A little giggle came from the girl. "That's just like you - thoughtful and creative." Henry just glanced down shyly, red on his face. _That's funny. _ He thought. _Dad always told me it was queer and a waste of time._

"What about you Walter?" Eileen turned to him. Before the man could answer, Richard spoke up again.

"Let me guess - slasher novels and horror fiction?" The man asked, eyes like sharp knives. "Murder mysteries or some twisted shit like that? You'd be good at those, with your personal knowledge and all." Walter didn't reply, simply looking down again, and a fire was ignited in Henry's chest. Eileen had turned to glower at Richard but before anything could be said, Henry stood.

Little Walter jumped at the sudden action as Henry stormed past him to stand by the other man, fists clenched, glowering down at the now confused Richard Braintree.

"What's with you?" He asked, eyebrow cocked, but instead of answering, Henry lifted his fist and punched.

It probably hurt him more than Richard - Henry didn't really know how to fight or even ball up his fist correctly, so when it connected, it stung badly. Richard looked more confused, holding his cheek, than in pain or angry, even as Eileen started shaking her head.

"This was a horrible idea." Henry began to feel ashamed, looking over at Eileen with sad eyes. He had just... Horrified, he stared at his slightly red fist and grimaced.

"I..." _I ruin everything._

A hand took hold of his; Henry jumped and looked up to see Walter beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

"I think we should go." The blond whispered, breath tickling his ear. Then he turned to Eileen. "I'm sorry, perhaps another time..."

"It's fine." She smiled, and a part of Henry felt she was glad to have an excuse to be alone - well, sort of - with Richard. It would be little Walter's bedtime soon anyway.

Henry let Walter pull him along, to the door, and he almost apologized to Richard as they went. _Fuck it. _The man deserved what he got.

When they got back into room 302, Henry let out a heavy sigh. "Walter, I'm -"

"Thank you."

Shocked, Henry stumbled. "W - What?"

The man turned to face Henry, and they were only half a foot apart. "... I deserve what he says... but no one's ever defended me like you." He smiled a little, meeting Henry's gaze. "Thank you."

Hope bubbled in Henry's throat at the soft light in Walter's eyes. Was that an illusion or was there affection in those pupils? He knew already the protectiveness the man held for him - how would it feel to be protected in those strong arms? To hear his romantic whispers against his ear?

A voice from a few days before fluttered through his ear.

_You can't wait for things to happen without doing anything at all. Nothing will change if you don't make it._

His hand twitched. Eyes fluttering between the floor, the wall, Walter's shoes, Walter's soft hands, his face, the ceiling...

"Henry?"

The hand twitch again. Mouth dry and tongue swollen, he opened his mouth and no words came out.

_Say something._

"Are you all right?"

_Say anything._

"... ... ... your welcome."

Henry hated himself.

_You have a secret to tell._

Cringing in his sleep, Henry clutched the bed sheets. "N - No..." came the choked cry. "Never!"

The room was closing in as all light fled his eyes. Yet, somehow, perhaps from an illusion born of fear, he could see vague shapes in the dark - monsters with stretching hands, reaching fingers clawing for him, thin and bleeding. Screeches filled the air as Henry bit back a scream; then all other illusions were gone, replaced by a tall, shadowy form. It was vaguely familiar...

_You must._

A primal rage took over him as the helmet the thing wore somehow glinted in the non light. "I won't!"

Something - maybe the thick air - was holding him down, even as he writhed and fought, and a voice echoed.

_It is the only way. There must be a line in the sand, a light in the dark... how else will you save him? Do not be selfish._

Head shaking wildly, some of Henry's anger gave way to fear. "I - I can't..."

PAIN - those were the letters in bold in his head, but there wasn't actually any agony. It was just that there should have been pain, this reaching grasp that invaded his... his... soul? It seemed deeper than that. Somehow this illusion spirit had seized a part of him that no one or no thing should touch.

His true essence? Something only God should touch, and if there wasn't one, something that should remain white as snow. But, as Henry's thoughts liquidized and the grip holding him turned him inside out, he realized this thing before him might as well be God.

_What do you fear?_

_Surely you realize the Conjurer's anomalies, when around you. Surely you see the oddities in his behavior?_

Oddities? Anomalies? Images flashed; Walter's protective eyes, his kind smile. The words spoken, so soft from such a violent heart... or was that simply a wounded heart?

But whatever glimmers could be gleamed from those special moments were ignored, any hope felled quickly by doubt, fear, and self loathing. The thought 'who could love me' acted as a bullet, and his cynicism the sniper.

The reaching hand dove deeper and Henry gasped like he was dying, struggling in horror. This was not right, not humane! No one should be allowed to do this to him, to anyone, this monster from hell least of all! A fierce glare fell on the creature, even as his vision clouded and blurred until he couldn't see the thing.

_For me to Judge, I must understand all._

_I must know your deepest heart, your darkest dreams, and your worst nightmares._

Grimacing, Henry struggled to speak. "L - Lo - Loo - k - - - muh - mir - ror -" It was incomplete and disjointed but the creature knew his soul, knew him, and laughed at his thought.

_No. You refuse to obey me - so there is something that frightens you much more than I._

Down down down further NO into the please don't THESE AREN'T YOURS down to the darkness and then they both can See.

_Blond teenage lover - cheap imitation of a passing dream - eyes wide and running away. _

When the need arose and the monster bared his teeth, the one he Loved had left. he feared this - feared the emptiness. If no one is near no one can leave. No one can rip the support right from under him. He fears being left; fears being unworthy of having someone stand beside him.

_Tall, human monster, bearing down from above, rendering him all but helpless._

Blow after blow rain down upon him - upon his angel of a mother - he feared not the pain, but being unable to stop it, unable to fight. Only able to watch as others were hurt... or killed... before him. as with his father... as in Walter's nightmare.

_The broken angel on the staircase._

That he feared most of all; he feared HER; HeFearedTheBrokenOne. Defeated and destroyed by her lover, the one who ShouldHaveProtectedHer. Henry feared the past repeating itself - feared being so in love with anyone at all he failed to see danger rear its head. Like his mother, he was in love with someone_ Who Had Hurt Him_, someone dangerous, and though the situation was different... it was precarious still. Henry would reach out to him with trembling hands... but fear always held him back.

He didn't want to hurt anymore.

It was a circular pattern - fear of being rejected - fear of being helpless - fear of being hurt - all of which drove him from other people, from the entire world. He lived his life in his cave like apartment, dwelling alone, out of fear.

Fear of being pushed away.

Fear of being beaten down.

Fear of being unable to stop it.

_These are heavy thoughts for a heavy heart._

Henry felt like he should be angry. He wanted to feel angry, but he was too tired, too overwhelmed, to feel anything ay all.

The dream world began shifting like water rolling on a lake... distorting. _I understand your pain and I have Judged you, Henry Townshend._

_You are a lost soul, thrown upon the raging ocean without an anchor._

_Fear no more - brave this last storm, and the worst will finally be past._

Then it was gone.

In the early hours of the morning, Henry's eyes snapped open. A dream faded quickly from his mind, and in an instant he couldn't recall what had disturbed him so greatly.

Exhausted but unable to sleep, he stood and went to the shower.

He had just stepped in when there came a knock on the door. "Henry? You all right?"

Walter's voice had a similar affect as usual, despite Henry's exhaustion. "Uh, yeah - I'm fine. Sorry if I woke you."

"I was awake." Henry briefly frowned at the odd tone, half a sigh, as he shut the water off.

Towel wrapped around his waist, he opened the bathroom door to see his friend's face. "... feeling all right?" He echoed the blond's question. Now, looking at him, Walter seemed almost weary, black circles under his eyes. Defeated. Henry immediately stepped forward, almost chest to chest with the man. Somehow he managed to ignore this vital fact. "What's wrong?"

Walter glanced up, shocking Henry again with the vulnerable look, eyes flitting over him. Then he shrugged. "It's nothing." The man hesitantly turned to go, but Henry took hold of his arm. No words were spoken; Henry waited.

Once again Walter's gaze flitted to him, then away, then back. He was nervous about something - but what? "Nothing, Henry." He insisted weakly, throat dry. "... just - bad dream." Turning his head, his hair fell like a curtain over his face.

A dream? Henry winced at the thought of the kinds of things that could haunt this man. In fact, now that he was paying attention, the arm under his hand was shaking uncontrollably. Walter bit his lip and the frightened gesture gave birth to a fire in Henry's heart. _He's still like a child._

"I'll be fine." The look hardened and the weakness faded, but Henry didn't let go. A thought occurred to him.

"Where are you sleeping?" The taller man nodded to the office door at the end of the hall. Henry blinked. "... where? On the floor?" Walter didn't deny or even acknowledge, and Henry's disbelieving eyes settled on him.

"I've lived through much worse conditions, Henry."

The horrid scenes flashed in his head, things no child should know. That's not living. Shaking his head, Henry's hand moved from Walter's arm to his hand, pulling him towards the bedroom. the man cursed himself. _Why didn't I think to ask that before?_

"Henry -" The door slammed shut behind them and the brunet turned.

"It's big enough for two. Later, maybe we can do something - build an add on for another bedroom or something. No one lives in the apartment next door." He was rambling since he'd just realized he was almost bare in a bedroom with Walter. "I - I mean, other than Eileen, but on the other side -"

"Henry it's fine." The blond held up his hands.

Embarrassment temporarily forgotten, Henry turned on him (a little too quickly, jostling the towel). "No, it's not. This is our home, you should sleep in a bed at least!"

He then turned away, red faced, heading towards his dresser. Somehow he managed to grab a new pair of boxers and pajama bottoms without dropping the towel. He then turned to leave the room - but Walter was still in his way.

He shyly glanced up, afraid perhaps he'd said something wrong - but Walter was just watching him curiously. Henry nervously met his gaze.

"... you care about me." It was a fact, a statement. "Why?"

The photographer could've written a paper on the subject. But speaking? Walter should have known by then that he and speech were not friends. Tongue thick in his throat, he swallowed dryly.

_What am I supposed to say?_

But, before he could stutter and stammer himself into a faint, Walter stepped aside. It was cowardly, he knew, but Henry took his opening and ran.

When he returned, Walter was asleep on the side of the bed by the window. For a minute Henry stood dumbly with eyes transfixed on the soft light falling on his cheeks, his messy hair. Never had he seen a sight so angelic and so demonic at the same time.

He was a bit tall for the bed, slightly curled with his knees and arms bent, mouth partially open like a child. Slowly, Henry walked to the bedside, and sat down as carefully as possible.

The man noticed the blue coat hadn't left the other's frame. Did he ever take it off? His shoes were still on, even! And he wasn't even under the blankets!

"He's..." Henry swallowed.

This man was hardly human.

Everything that could define humanity had been stripped from him long ago. And it wasn't just the madness and death, but things like remaining dressed for bed, denying himself the comfort of even a good night's sleep. Had he ever known such a thing, all his life? Had he ever had one night of bliss, lost in warm darkness, without terror or pain?

Tears fell unbidden down Henry's face as he sighed. The damage done to this soul could likely never be repaired. What did Henry think he could offer? One last heartbreaking sigh, and he laid down.

He didn't bother pulling the blankets back either.

A few hours passed in their sleeping. The clock in the living room ticked the time. The second hand flew round and round, coming nearer and nearer to the moment of sunrise: on this day, 6:54 on the dot. Closer it inched... the closer it got, the slower it seemed to travel... until it came to a complete halt right before the change from 6:53 to the next minute. It froze, and all three hands stood still.

A wind wafted through the room despite the fact the windows and doors were all closed. It was a strange wind; blistering in its intensity, yet chilling as it passed.

Something was wrong.

For the second time Henry awoke with a start. He blinked as the ceiling came into focus - reddish, stained, the fan rusted over and barely spinning.

In an instant he was sitting up. "Fuck!" Head spinning in circles, he stumbled out of bed wildly. the floor was blackish and sticky, everything darker and tinted red - and Walter was gone.

Heart hammering, Henry burst out of the room into the now ruined hall, feet pounding towards the main room. It was al -

" - that way." Whispering his realized fear, Henry took in the similarities, down to the same stains in the same places and the blood and stink in the putrid air -

"Walter! ... WALTER!"

He was choking on air, he was hot all over, he was -

The man froze, eyes stuck on the little white vision in the corner of his sight. He slowly turned to see what it was - his throat clenched shut.

There was a letter under the door.

_No! _ His mind whispered as reluctant steps took him closer. _ No, no! _By the time he was kneeling at the door, he was sweating and panting. The paper rattled in his hands as he read.

_Hey Henry,_

_Sorry about the mess; we need to talk about some things. I'll be waiting back where the story started, or at least, where the nightmare did._

_PS. There's a gift on the counter_

_Cheryl Mason_

Henry, dropping the letter, stood and rushed to the counter. Sitting on the blood stained marble was a pistol and a few clips.

This time, when his hands reached out, they weren't trembling.

The chains weren't back on the door, so it was easy to leave and begin his search outside. Despite how much he never wanted to venture back to that world, Henry knew that he once again had no choice. Walter was gone... and the letter was much too convenient. _What it he's... does he need help...?_

Noises in the dark. Bloodied tile ripped by clawed hands; the screech of a damned soul. It was all so horribly familiar, both as being from the past, and from his horrid nightmares.

Fear had given way to cold indifference, settling in his stomach like a lead weight. it took a few minutes to gather his strength after that, but eventually Henry took in a deep breath, turned the door handle, and stepped outside.

The empty hall was back to its torturous, writhing form, the living blood crawling upon the walls and dripping on the floor. _ Clank, clank._ His feet hit the grates, a new addition, revealing fires burning far below. That explained the sweltering heat choking him. Henry's eyes fell on something else different.

The wall across from his room looked different; it looked like it used to when he peered out his peephole, bloody handprints dotting the wall. The photographer's eyes darkened. Without realizing it, he began to count.

His mind heard numbers... but he saw faces, the images of the dead. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... long gone phantoms, some of them, others lingering on like an aftertaste. 6... 7... 8... painful memories of monstrous corpses... 9... 10...

11...

He kept going faster. 11, 12, 13, 14, 15... the horrible room of the past, the scent of smoke and candles. 16... make up all over the ground... 17... joyful screams of the delirious... 18... a sick man got a sick end... 19... struggling to speak through the pain...

20... a litany of memories, of tears and screams, laughter and smiles...

21.

The last hand was pure white.

Shock coursed through him like a drug as Henry lifted his hand to touch it. No dark stains, no blood splatters... the last hand was clean. Henry felt compelled and laid his hand on the image.

His eyes fell closed, head reeling... by the time they opened again, all the handprints were gone.

They were replaced by a Hole.

_... back where the story started, or at least, where the nightmare did..._

The Water Prison. Bile rose in Henry's throat as his feet sloshed through the muck. Bitter smells from the death room wafted into the dining hall, where he stood... ill from the knowledge he had of the place, he bolted as soon as possible out of the room.

The heavy door slid shut behind him loudly, but his heartbeat in his ear was much louder - eyes flying around, he caught sight of the two ladders, right where they'd been before.

Where was he supposed to go?

Breathing erratically did no help him decide but he couldn't help it. Half panicking, half frozen, he glanced back and forth.

"AUGAAAHHH!"

"Walter!" Had that been him? Henry leapt at the agonized scream, his nerves shot, as urgency settled in. He had to make a choice, and fast. What if those two cult members had found him?

So, he rushed to the ladder leading to the cells, and scurried up it. ANother scream rocked the prison, and Henry almost let go of the ladder, tottering for a frightful second.

He had to find Walter.

The ghosts were gone - but the creatures were out in full force. All Henry had done was peek out from the doorway, and a groaning roar came, a clawed hand reaching for him. The door slammed shut in an instant.

Okay, that was a cell he didn't want to traverse. Moving on...

No more screams had come for a while, which was a blessing and a cure. He was lost, no idea where to head, no idea what he would find when he got there, and no amount of self assurance could calm his fear.

_He can take care of himself, he's fine, he's powerful, I'm more afraid for anyone who'd try to hurt him _

Yet he worried.

The man had traveled the whole floor in one great circle, and neither Walter nor any hint of him had been found. The only choice was moving on. Down was impossible, because the door was locked, so up it was.

When he had rounded the outer wall and entered the door, something new greeted him. Instead of the usual room full of cells, Henry was faced with a long, dank hallway, almost totally dark.

A change of scenery abrupt and random as this was no surprise in this world, but was unsettling still. Nervous steps brought Henry out of the clouded sunlight, into the hall; the door shut behind him and all light was locked out.

Thump, thump, went his heart in his ear as he fumbled in the dark, trying to reopen the door. He couldn't even find the handle. Trembling, he turned to face the darkness with a sick twist in his gut. There was only one way to go...

Instead of trying to see in vain, Henry closed his eyes and focused on listening to his footsteps in the water, the distant creaking of metal grates. A shaking hand reached out until he felt the moist wall, slimy beneath his fingers. With his other hand he gripped the gun tightly.

For what seemed like miles Henry kept going unhindered, no creatures and no enemies, only the horrid dark nad the humidity. Exhaustion from stress and exertion began settling in, shoulders sore and breathing irregular.

"Welcome, Henry."

Muscles froze and lungs all but stopped moving.

"We've met before, do you remember? Though you might not recognize me now."

_No, no, no, no - _

"Maybe a little light will help."

BANG, BANG, BANG the overhead lights came on blindingly, as Henry's arms flew over his face. Fearful beyond anything before, he jumped away from the wall, eyes spinning around. No one was there.

"Behind you."

_Not that voice, not that voice_ he was shivering and whimpering completely unable to move.

"I guess you know me without seeing me." Footsteps came closer to him; every muscle in his body jolted to life and he willed himself to run, run, run, but running instead became turning to jelly and falling to his knees, tears flooding his eyes.

"S - stay the hell a - away from me!"

Laughter - the same laugh! So horrified, petrified, traumatized, Henry finally pulled himself up and started to run, run, run, run, RUN!

The echo still followed him as the path suddenly dropped out from under his feet but he couldn't stop, couldn't stop running and down he fell into the abyss -

His feet found the end of the endless fall, and somehow he steadied himself at the bottom. The very next second, he collapsed to his knees, choking on air and pale, gun clattering to the ground. Dry heaving until he hurt, his weak hands covered his eyes and he fell apart.

I can't afford this, he thought, sobbing and wiping his eyes. Not now. Weak kneed, he forced himself to stand, even as he wobbled in place and sucked in air. He picked the gun up, comforted by the cold steel. Ahead of him was another dark hall; the man forced himself to run, knowing he had to be getting close.

He had to find Walter before _he _did.

The hall became slightly illuminated, and Henry heard voices. Then a scream.

He jumped, about ready to rush in unprepared, but he stopped himself. Breath in, breath out. Slowly, he edged up to the doorway, and poked out.

It was a large, circular room, tall and wide, and in the center was a large circle, some sort of symbol drawn in red. There was Walter, on his knees, hands stretched and chained to the ground. Blood poured down him, head hung and mouth gaping... he was shirtless, and two large wounds bled profusely from his shoulders. Henry's heart wrenched in his chest and he gripped the gun so hard it hurt.

Two people stood in the room, George Rosten and Jimmy Stone, of course. one was at the far end, reading and muttering under his breath with a knife in one hand. On an alter in front of him was a familiar box - the one Henry had taken from Frank.

The flesh of the mother.

The knife came swooping down on the box and blood flew. Walter's back arched and he roared, agonized, and Henry reacted by instinct as his eyes saw red.

"_Leave him alone_!"

Both men turned in surprise as Henry lifted his gun and fired. The bullet soared straight into Rosten's skull, as Henry turned the weapon on Jimmy.

"Let him go." He whispered darkly, eyes narrowed. Jimmy did not speak, did not seem to even notice him, merely crossing his arms with a dead look of indifference. Henry stared him down. "Let him go!"

"Henry!"

Thanks to Walter's warning the brunet dodged just before Rosten's knife entered his back. Blood was pouring from his forehead, over his grin and his mad eyes, and it was then a thought clicked in Henry's mind.

Ghosts. They were ghosts, like him, and nothing could put them down for long.

"Welcome, Receiver." Jimmy began, stepping forward with his arms raised. "Have you come to see the birth of the new world?"

"What?" Frowning, Henry glanced at Walter. As soon as he did, a hand hit his elbow fiercely, the gun falling from his hand, before another blow beat his neck and he fell.

"Henry!" Chains rattled.

"... why?"

"Why?" Jimmy seemed surprise, looking down on Henry with disinterest. "It is the will of our God that this world be cleansed by the fire to be remade." He gestured to Walter. "When Alessa failed, that became your duty - but always you fought and refused the God's grace. We instructed you, but you perverted the incantation and now, it falls to us to finish it."

Confused and enraged, Henry growled and rushed to stand, but a foot descended hard on his back. Screams erupted, both Henry's agonized yells and Walter's enraged roars.

"Perhaps we could use this one to inspire the other." George offered with a smirk. Jimmy nodded, returning the look with a cool smile.

"Perhaps."

A hand grabbed his collar and pulled him up as he struggled to struggle, dizzy and tired and rushed by anger.

"Au - augh!" Choking, Henry's body curled up as the first fist pounded his stomach, then another, then another. Colors flashed in his vision, spittle flying from his mouth, and Henry could only flail uselessly.

_Henry! Henry! _

Was that in his head?

_... W - Walter? _ A particularly hard blow hit his cheek suddenly and he bit his tongue, crying out and hating himself for being so, so, weak, for letting this happen, for crying as tears cascaded down...

_Yes, Henry, listen to me! I need you to open your mind to me, quickly!_

What? The hand punching him was bruised, entering the priest's sleeve, and returning with a knife. Revulsion had the man trying his best to lean back away from the glimmering edge, gasping for breath.

_It's the only way to stop them; I know I promised I never would but I can't let them hurt you!_

For a brief, frightening moment, Henry choked and realized what that could mean - what it could reveal. Then the knife shone in the light, the rusted edge coming closer to his neck. Trapped between fear of pain and fear of rejection, Henry realized he was really tired of it. Always, running from something that wanted to hurt him... he let it all go, along with every mental wall he'd ever constructed to protect himself.

It was a mental flood of the waters of the soul, drowning him in the most blissful way imaginable. The water was warm, caressing inner wounds, panic and pain melting away... it was like Walter was embracing him, whispering sweet nothings. Then it was hot, cheeks flushed, the scent of rust and gunpowder, the feeling of being filled by someone else's thoughts and dreams, nightmares and fears.

Jimmy Stone paused, the knife a mere inch from Henry's neck. Wide eyes stared at the change on the man. The brunet wasn't shivering, or making any noise, or doing anything at all.

Then he started to change.

His skin began to turn pure white, his hair black and dusty like soot, all his clothes seeming to fade and melt into a dull grey. The body fell limp - then the eyes snapped open - red rimmed by black.

"He's possessed!" The priest realized all too late, jumping back and searching in his pocket. George, meanwhile, tried to wrap an arm around Henry's neck, but the elbow braking his noise put a stop to that.

Henry was dropped, landing on his feet, before sauntering towards Jimmy with a blank stare to chill any soul. The man pulled out a handful of Saint Medallions to wear around his neck, his composure finally faltering.

There was an echo in the room: as Walter spoke, so did Henry. "**Those won't work here**." They both muttered. "**Not in this place, so deep in my world. And not on him**." In a flash, the wrist attached to the hand holding the medallions was snapped. Jimmy howled as the silver cascaded onto the floor.

It was like the most intimate of relations - feeling every bit of another person's essence wrapped up in yours, being surrounded by the most basic form of Walter Sullivan. By his most trivial thoughts, his likes and dislikes, emotions and memories. Henry wanted to cry, wanted to lose himself in the cocoon of warmth, this feeling. This was as close to Walter as he'd ever be allowed.

"**This ends, here and now**." Henry-Walter said. "**I'm not your pupil, and I'm not your means to an end**."

_Thunk!_

Surprised, Walter and Henry both turned back to George, who now had a sword embedded in his chest. HIs gurgling cries were ignored by the one who did it - a blonde girl with a cute smile.

The girl glanced up. "Watch out!"

Henry's body didn't turn in time and a knife stabbed him, sliding in beneath the ribs, as Jimmy grinned and twisted. The possessed image flashed in and out as Henry screeched and arched back.

_Henry! _The man held onto Walter's soul for strength, trying to hold back the pain. He couldn't die, but he could bleed - and blood was pouring out in torrents.

The possession returned as Henry grabbed the knife hand, ripped the knife from his gut, and jabbed it into Jimmy's neck. The screams died as blood filled his mouth and Henry punched the man's nose. It crunched beneath the force, just before Henry fell weakly to his knees, last of his strength gone.

"Henry!"

The possession began to fade, but Henry grabbed it, wrapped his thoughts and mind self all around it like a child wrapping themselves in blankets to keep away monsters. _Don't leave me, don't leave me -_

_Henry?_

_Don't leave me, don't leave me_, The water around him was washing away, as Henry stood on the beach, cold and alone.

"Henry," the blonde girl was kneeling beside him, steadying him. "It's okay. You can let go."

Head shaking wildly, he tried to pull Walter back with weak fingers. _ Don't -_

The girl - Cheryl - put a hand on his and smiled knowingly. "Let go."

The tie broke, and Henry gasped for air, feeling half dead and empty. Things rushed his head and he reeled, a dry sob escaping him. What had he just done? Holding on like that, surely Walter would realize...

Cheryl disappeared for a minute as Henry toppled onto his side, hand over his wound. From there, he could see Walter's hunched form, shoulders shaking. Blue eyes met brown.

It probably wasn't the smartest idea, but Henry turned onto his stomach with a sharp cry and moved his trembling arms ahead of him. He pushed and he pulled, a trail of blood behind him, struggling to reach his friend. The lines of the ritual circle blurred as he passed over them, until he collapsed before Walter, breathing erratically.

"Henry?" Walter's voice was thick, choked.

The brunet struggled to sit up. "S - Sorry... should've gotten here sooner..."

Walter shook his head, sweat pouring down his cheeks. "I should be... sorry... my fault." He watched intently as Henry managed to get to his knees in front of Walter. The pale faced, exhausted brunet tugged weakly on the chains a few times. They didn't give, and he collapsed on the blond's chest.

"S - Sorry..." He whispered again, mouth almost touching his porcelain skin. His head beneath Walter's neck, lying on his bare chest, he could feel the man's heartbeat. With each rapid breath the beaten man gave, his head rose and fell.

"Why?" The taller one muttered. "... why would you ever be sorry for me?" His head lowered and Henry could feel his labored breathing against the top of his ear, the blond hair falling down and surrounding both their faces. "I killed you."

A small chuckle escaped Henry as his heart rushed nervously. His head shook against Walter's chest. "You set me free." He breathed, and shocked erupted on the other's face.

Footsteps approached, a girlish chuckle. "Sorry to interrupt." Neither man had the strength to turn and look at her, and Henry didn't have the desire, eyes remaining on the warm skin. "But there's still some things to do here." She knelt by Walter, who didn't even glance at her, still staring with narrowed eyes at the brunet, who burned under his searching gaze.

A hand reached out, and when the girl touched the chains holding Walter, they vanished. Without their support, Walter began falling, but caught himself by latching onto Henry's back. The brunet hissed, eyes flying wide, and suddenly Walter's hold on him weakened.

"Did I hurt you?" He began leaning back, but Henry shook his head, quickly wrapping the man in a tight hold, keeping him upright. Color flooded his face as he breathed in, holding him like he was his lifeline.

Both men were trembling and weak, but Walter's soft embrace was comforting, ... even cozy.

_If only I could belong here_, Henry almost sighed, closing his eyes.

The girl - Cheryl - put her hands on Henry and Walter's arms helping them stand. Henry quickly realized his strength was zapped once he was on his feet, falling limp. Instead of hitting the ground, he was supported this time - Walter's strong arms hoisted him up, and held his body to Walter's chest.

The man could hardly breath, realizing how long he'd been holding this man and how it might never happen again.

Eyes furrowed, Henry turned his thoughts away, looking to Cheryl.

"Who are you?"

"For now, call me a friend." She smiled. "Come on, we'd better go."

"You're not going anywhere."

Henry's eyes snapped open. He jumped in Walter's embrace, a stifled gasp escaping as his horrified eyes turned to the doorway across the room.

He stood there, barely in shadow, killing Henry's heart with his presence and destroying his sanity with his existence.

"I don't care about the two of you - I'm here for the boy."

The man stepped into the light, and Henry's worst fear came to life, whole body trembling as he bit his lip. Walter's grip on him tightened to almost pain, his body lifted in such a way that it was as if Walter's arms were cradling him, Henry's head falling into the crook of the man's neck.

"Henry, is that -"

The brunet started to panic, shaking his head wildly and grasping Walter's arms tightly. "You're dead, you're dead, you're dead, you're dead -"

"Henry."

"YOUREDEADYOUREDEAD-"

"I am alive!" The man threw his arms up and grinned. "As long as you are. I live through you."

"NO!"

"Oh, yes." He chuckled and resembled a cheshire, stepping forward. "I'm inside you all the time."

"Henry." Walter tried to look at him, but the man fought his way from his love's arms, stumbling forward. Holding his wound with a trembling hand, he reached his abandoned gun, and lifted it.

The man smirked down the barrel. "Do it." He whispered. "Watch me die again. This time it will really be your fault."

"What the hell are you talking about!"

"I control you." The bestial man grinned wildly. Henry started to shake his head and suddenly the man jumped forward. "I - CONTROL - YOU!" In his shock, Henry waved the gun and fired, missing by an inch. Walter shot forward, but Cheryl leapt between them.

The monster smirked, looking at where the bullet had embedded in the wall. "Admit it." Came the murmur as he turned back. "Everything you've done has been... for me."

Henry stared, arm lifted, unable to do anything but listen.

"Every choice you made was for me. Avoiding people, avoiding yourself. Afraid." The man started walking forward. "You're afraid others will be like me - or afraid that you will turn out like me. Hurting others, getting hurt. Fear."

Slowly, Henry moved back, eyes transfixed.

"Never getting close to anyone, to protect yourself. You convince yourself you don't need it or want it, that closeness - trusting people only causes pain." The man smiled. "I taught you that - you learned well."

Henry tried to shove the words out, tried to form thoughts of his own. "Y - You're wrong."

"Am I?" He laughed. "Well how about this - you tried to protect all the victims of Walter Sullivan, but he sadly managed to kill them all." The man smirked. "That's what you tell yourself at least."

Henry's lip started to bleed he was biting it so hard.

"You wanted to protect them; you tried. Seeing others being hurt the way you were, unable to protect themselves..." He shook his head. "But the fear won. You never helped as much as you could."

"NO!" Walter was now struggling to pass Cheryl and get to Henry, but somehow the little girl was holding the giant man back. His face was contorted into rage.

"You were afraid of being hurt, too, so you stayed away. When the murderer came, you ran. You let them die!"

The gun clattered to the ground and Henry covered his ears, tears falling down his cheeks as he grimaced. "S - shut..."

"And what's more; why did you protect the woman so fervently? Why did you decide to fight that man, once Eileen was hurt?" He pointed to Walter. "The answer's easy."

"SHUT UP!"

"Eileen was your mother." The entity muttered and seemed pleased by Henry's horror. The man now stood right before Henry, who had stopped shivering but still stared at the ground. His hands started to fall from his ears.

"The woman, helpless, beaten by a powerful man. Which I guess makes Walter represent me - the one you love, who harms you constantly. You live in fear of his fists, I know. I taught it to you." The man waited for a response before laughing. "You're so pathetic, living a life tied to me. It's not living at all."

The voice was thick when he finally managed to find words. "... you're wrong."

A chortle. "How so?"

Henry lifted his head to look up again, though it pained him. "In many ways, but the biggest is this. Walter isn't you!" He swiped his hands out, almost hitting the man, despite how blood spurted from his wound as he did.

"You are the monster who promised to love and protect my mother, then... you destroyed her." The bitter man clenched his fists, then shook his head. "But Walter... yeah, he hurt me. He killed people. But he never pretended to be anything he wasn't. He never betrayed me." The man paused, glancing over his shoulder shyly. "... he's been kinder to me than most people I've ever met. Kinder than you." He spat. "He's trying to make up for his sins, and I want to help him."

"You're a fool." The other sneered. "You're just going to get hurt -"

"I'll risk that." Henry shouted suddenly. "I... I won't live afraid anymore."

His father grimaced and raised his fists. "_You'll always be afraid of me_!"

The blow was flying toward him - Henry didn't have the strength to dodge or fight back. He could've cringed, lifted his arms, cried uselessly into the dark. But he didn't. Eyes closed, Henry rejected fear in the face of pain and gave a soft sigh.

Pain never came.

Slowly, his eyes opened and came upon a bare back, between him and the fist. "W - walter?"

"Don't you dare touch him." He seethed, holding the fist back. The wounds on his arms had already healed and stopped bleeding, his arms bulging with renewed strength.

Henry's father smiled. Behind them, someone began to clap. Both men spun to face Cheryl, who was grinning.

"Perfect! better than I could have hoped for!" She cheered, slowly walking forward. "Guess there's only one thing left to do."

Suddenly, two gray, fleshy hands grabbed Walter's shoulders, spinning him around and holding on to the two scars. The blond froze as Henry turned and stared in shock.

Where, a moment ago, his father had stood was now a monstrous creature, taller than Walter, with no eyes or ears, and skin molted and dead. Hands gripped the blond with fierce intensity on the marks on his shoulders, which Henry noticed were identical to marks on the monster's shoulders.

"What're you -" Henry tried to pry them apart, but the hold was to strong. Walter began to cry soundlessly, little tears staining his cheeks.

"You." The man whispered, before beginning to convulse, eyes rolling back.

"Walter!"

"**Let it go**." The beast demanded harshly. The shaking increased as a drip of red flooded Walter's mouth.

"STOP IT!" Henry tried stepping between them, but he was suddenly lifted off the ground, pulled back by muscular gray arms.

On and on the movements went as the torrent of blood poured from Walter's lips, and Henry struggled in vain to help him; then, it all stopped. The blond's lips parted, and something fell from them to the ground.

It was small, black, and shriveled like a prune, blood coating it. The beast let Walter go, and Henry was too released.

Finally free, the brunet rushed and grabbed his friend before he could hit the ground. "Walter! WALTER!"

The creature that held Walter knelt and picked up the thing. It sat in his hand and began to beat like a dying heart.

"**Mission success.**" The thing joked, horrid mouth splitting his face into a grin, as it looked to its ally. The being with the helmet, which had held Henry back before.

"Mission? What are you talking about!" Being almost killed and watching his friend get hurt had made Henry strangely talkative.

The two beings turned to Henry, sitting on the floor cradling his love, anger flashing in his eyes. It seemed like they were staring dumbly.

"**... you can hear us**?"

"Of course he can; I told you he was different." Cheryl said as she walked over, kneeling by Walter's other side.

"Don't touch him!" Henry tried to reach over and pry her hands off, but dizziness got to him. Tumbling over backward, he hit his back, grimacing in pain and clutching his gut.

"**Should I help him**?"

"Yes, help him!" The girl rolled her eyes. Suddenly, the helmet figure was kneeling beside Henry, towering and dark, red eyes burning through the small hole in the object. Henry clenched his fists and turned his head away. It was futile; weak as he was, he couldn't stop the thing from reaching over, touching his wound and... healing him?

"W - What?" The blood flow stopped, the ghostly skin stitching itself together. Soon, it didn't even hurt. A strong hand came behind his back and gently helped him sit up.

Across the way, Walter was sitting up too. All his wounds had disappeared, and the scars on his shoulder seemed to have healed a little. They were still there, but faded, like years had passed since they'd closed. He looked fine, turning to face Henry with concern.

"Henry-" He tried to stand, but his legs gave out.

"Whoa, hold on. Just cause you're not bleeding doesn't mean you're all better." Cheryl pulled him back gently.

"What the hell...?" Confusion sparked on Henry's face.

The girl giggled as Walter mirrored his look. "I guess we've got some s'plaining to do eh, Lucy?" She moved to sit cross legged between them. "First, I do want to apologize. All of this was necessary, but I know it wasn't fun."

"... do I..." Walter was frowning, brow furrowed.

"Know me?" She finished with a nod. "At one time, my name was Alessa Gillespie." The only sign of recognition was in his eyes, while Henry had no clue what the name meant.

"Then my name was Cheryl, for a while, then Heather. Now it's Cheryl again." She shook her head. "But that's another story."

"Walter, you know you were their back up plan." She began, hands on her knees. "When I failed to bring Paradise, they turned to you and the Sacraments. But there were two problems: one you weren't the most faithful sheep in the flock. Two, you weren't a murderer, not yet."

Henry glanced between the two of them, not understanding, but listening raptly.

"The first one was easy. Dahlia had been manipulating you to make you obsess over Room 302. All they had to tell you was the Sacraments would give you your mother." She said it so matter of fact-ly, despite the crushing blow it was. "Still, you weren't quite willing to comply."

"**So they STOLE from me!**" The monster behind them raged, throwing his arms up with a hiss.

"My story, not yours." Cheryl spat. "Yes, they decided to drive your capacity for murder-"

"By placing a piece of the attendant of the Lord in me." Walter finished, murmuring. "I remember." He turned away, voice low and distant. "... are you saying it was all a lie?"

Cheryl did not let up. "Look around Walter. The Sacraments are over. Did you find your mother?"

Henry's mouth was dry, and it seemed he had used up his word quota for the day. Thinking of something to say was impossible, but he hated just watching the defeated look on Walter's face.

"Of course they lied, Walter, and I'm sure a part of you knew that. You never trusted them, but the Sacraments were your only hope. After they drove you off the deep end, it was all you could hold on to." She frowned. "... your mother is gone."

His head snapped up and never before had his eyes been so wide and vulnerable, his appearance so weak, a whimper escaping his throat. Henry leapt to his side.

He didn't say a word, just latching onto his friend; one arm going around Walter's back, the other raised in front of him. Nothing left his lips, but he glared, stance protective and defensive, hands clenched.

Anyone could see it in Henry's eyes - he would leap into the fires of Hell for this man. And in a way, he already had.

Walter froze; a light gasp, perhaps from both of them. The brunet realized his action, the heat of his hand on the other man's breast. Red rushed to his face, horror making his mouth drop, as he furtively glanced up to see Walter's eyes.

They were... what? Henry glanced away, afraid to keep contact, but he didn't think he'd seen hate, or disgust... He even began to lean away, to correct the mistake, but found his progress halted when a strong hand gripped his upper arm. Another gasp, and he glanced up in shock.

Laughter interrupted the tense moment. "See?" Cheryl grinned. "Who needs a mother when someone loves you like him?"

Henry's heart died in his chest, stomach twisting until it ripped as bitter cold slipped down his spine. Immediately he looked down again, afraid to meet eyes, staring at the hand gripping him.

A raspy voice. "Henry..." The shivering had started again.

_I've ruined it. The one person I've truly cared for, loved, and now he'll be gone, now he'll leave... _

"Henry..."

Henry's hand started to lower, but suddenly another hand grabbed it, moving it back to its place above Walter's breast. Staring in disbelief, Henry watched as that pale hand relaxed over his, the fingers beginning to stroke lightly the darker hand beneath. His pulse rushed at the soft touch.

"Look at me." Even if he'd wanted to comply, Henry was too shook up; his bravery for the day almost fried, he stared sternly down. A sigh; the hand holding his bicep moved, and cupped his chin.

"A - ah..." Henry couldn't believe the touch, believe what was happening, as the hand gently turned his face up - it couldn't force his eyes to look into Walter's, but in that moment, what else could he do? There was something enigmatic and drawing about his eyes in that moment, staring into Henry's as if looking for something and knowing exactly where to find it. Was that the twitch of a smirk, or a smile on his lips as Henry finally met his gaze? "I - I..."

"... is that the truth?"

_What, that I love you?_ Henry couldn't move to nod his head, couldn't move to speak, could hardly think. How do you face this kind of moment, the edge of a knife where maybe you could lose everything you care about, or maybe your life will finally take the greatest turn it's ever taken. If his heart beat any faster it would burst, skin breaking into a sweat.

Behind them, Cheryl was backing away towards her two allies, a smile on her lips.

"**What shall we do**?"

"I say leave them; they have a lot to talk about. I'm sure Walter will explain what happened to Henry later, but that's probably not on their minds right now." The girl grinned, turning towards her allies. Then she eyed the men nearby and the grin became dark. "As for them... I leave them in your capable hands, Judge."

The helmet being turned briefly. "**They shall face their judgements, though perhaps not here. I shall allow it to occur away from them**." Then, in a flash of darkness, all three disappeared, the tormented and the tormentor. Left behind, Cheryl turned to the last monster.

"Shall we?"

In an instant, they disappeared too, leaving Henry and Walter alone.

Neither man noticed: they were much too involved in each other.

The hand on Henry's moved to cradle one of his cheeks, and the hand on his chin followed, until his face was being cupped. Walter frowned. "You're cheeks are burning... are you still hurt?" He stared for a moment, fingertips beginning to move lightly over the skin.

"N - No... I -" I'm just very attracted to you? Unable to say, Henry looked down, but his face was immediately pulled back up.

"Henry, will you answer my question?"

_This is it. _The brunet was breathing like a runner at a marathon. _ This is the moment - stop being afraid. Take a chance._

Suddenly, the hands pulled his face to Walter's chest, to the crook of his neck, as arms wrapped around his back and pulled his whole body onto Walter's lap. Henry would never admit to the squeak he let out being his, but Walter smiled knowingly.

"You're quickly headed for a nervous break down - calm down Henry."

_Easy for you to say! _He didn't say it aloud, but Walter saw it in the glare and the twitch of his mouth. A hand came up to his neck, massaging in hopes of relaxing the man. His other did the same, running up and down the ridge of Henry's spine.

For a few minutes they remained this way, neither speaking or really moving. Walter moved his head to rest his cheek against the top of Henry's head. The brunet tried closing his eyes and calming, but he could still smell Walter, sweat and copper and _safety_, and it drove him crazy. But it also left him grinning against the man's shoulder.

"Why?" Henry jumped when the question was asked, heartbeat spiking again, and Walter sighed. The comforting rubbing continued. "Why the smile?"

Henry just stared, unsure of what to say.

"What made you break into a grin just now?"

_The way you smell. _His lips opened to speak but nothing came out, desperation pouring out his eyes as he wished he could be stronger. _ The way you're holding me like you want to save me from the world. The light in your eyes right now, which I was so scared would disappear forever today. Everything about you makes me smile._

Unable to reply, Henry sat up, blushing at the sight of how they sat: One of his legs was draped over Walter's, the other curled around him slightly. They were chest to chest, and they'd never been so close before. Henry bit his lip and tried to calm down, really he did.

"Why are you upset?" And there was another question he couldn't answer - this time when Walter sighed, he looked a bit miffed. Henry tried to talk again, but just gave a deep sigh and stared into Walter's eyes.

_If I could just send it to you, just show you _- He could. His eyes darted down, lingering on the flushed lips. They were slightly pink, stained from the blood earlier, thick and inviting. Suddenly Henry lifted his gaze, realizing he'd been staring, but it was too late. Walter, eyebrow cocked, saw where his gaze had been.

"So... have you lost your voice?" The man smirked a little, as if it was funny, and this time Henry managed to shake his head. They were coming close to the moment Henry couldn't deny anymore... despite his earlier promise, he was still scared.

Walter paused, one of his hands lifting to touch Henry's sweaty hair, to brush over the locks. Why was this happening? Henry's mind rushed as he came to a few conclusions. Walter had never been this touchy feel-y, never this concerned. Maybe... maybe there was hope...? Doubt tried to tell him no, but he couldn't help but wonder...

"Okay. Then at least answer this question... this one." The blond stared at him hard, mouth set, and Henry knew this was the breaking point.

"..." Walter glanced off for a moment, seemingly lost. "... so much has happened... it all came together that day, when you faced me. I was sure of my victory, in some ways, but in others... parts of me I'd locked away had hoped that day would be my death. I had hoped you would kill me."

His gaze returned to Henry's and saw the raw pain there at the mere mention of Walter dying. Why? What made the pain show? The hand on Henry's hair drifted forward, softly and slowly falling over his forehead, hands tracing lines. They traced over his eyes, pausing, moving gently over them, as if feeling the skin could give him answers. Henry let out a trembling moan, almost silent, but Walter caught it and stopped his ministrations. Frozen, Henry tried to jump back once again, and both of Walter's strong arms wrapped around his chest to keep him from doing so.

"Don't run, Henry. Tell me the truth."

This was it.

Henry closed his eyes and waited.

"... why did you kill yourself?"

That... wasn't really what he was expecting. Eyes open again, Henry examined Walter's confused face.

"You completed the Sacraments for me, sacrificed yourself... for me. Why?"

Well, when you put it that way... it still led to the answer Henry was terrified to give. But he knew there was no running - he had promised he wouldn't be afraid anymore. He wouldn't let old wounds keep him from moving on.

Eyes raced over Walter's sweat laden face, the long noise, thin but sharp eyes, the ragged hair. The beauty of an angel who'd fallen far from heaven. Was this the last moment he'd ever see this fallen one? Would this be the end?

If that was to be... Henry shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. If this was all he would ever have, then he would take all he could.

In the flash of a vital instant, Henry's eyes flew open. He crossed the short gap between Walter's body and his, lips poised for the action, sealing themselves over the blond's.

He kissed Walter fervently, head tilted, both hands coming up to cradle the other's face, pressing his lips so hard against the other's they would surely bruise. He pressed so strongly their teeth clashed, and held on far longer than natural since ghosts didn't really need air. It was like Henry was trying to shove all his feelings into this kiss, to throw it at Walter before finally letting go.

Walter hadn't responded at all during the whole thing, so when Henry leaned away, he was sure he knew what to expect. He closed his eyes and waited for the harsh words, the punishing blow - _something_. For a minute nothing happened at all.

Finally, a soft touch came, something gentle and smooth, pressing against his lips like a sweet caress, two strong arms wrapping under his shoulders to pull Henry to Walter's height. This kiss was searching, gentle, as Walter pressed lightly, then leaned away. Then he leaned back in, pressing ever so carefully, repeating that teasing process again and again, until he sucked on Henry's bottom lip.

"Uh - Uhnnn..." The deep moan came from Henry's throat, as his trembling arms struggled to reach Walter's hair. This... this couldn't be happening, but it was, oh boy was it happening.

Walter sucked on his bottom lip like he was savoring the man, pulling gently before letting go, to press another gentle touch to the bruised lips. They were so close, there was hardly a distinction between the two of them, as Henry's shaking hands finally settled on Walter's warm skin, rubbing his back appreciatively.

The two opened their eyes, leaning against each other's foreheads, and Henry felt a swell of strength.

"... I love you." He whispered. "That's the answer to all your questions. ... I - I -"

At those words, something flashed in Walter's usually bright eyes. They were now deep and dark like the depths of the ocean, colored by desire. Walter kissed him again, this time rough and domineering, as if trying to devour his mouth, trying to swallow the beautiful words as they came out.

_I love you_.

Something wet brushed by Henry's mouth, and the man's spine tingled. Where had Walter learned this? Shyly, the man opened his mouth just a little into the kiss: Walter smiled, and it felt funny against his skin, as the tongue gently pried his mouth open further. Then, it delved within, brushing a sensitive path across his inner cheeks.

"Mhmm." Henry's hands dug into skin a little, as he angled his mouth up, opening wider. The tongue brushed against his teasingly, beckoning, and Henry shyly replied. A few soft, nervous touches ensued, and though it could hardly be called a battle, Walter soon came out dominant and searched Henry's mouth even more thoroughly.

When they finally broke apart an eon later, Henry was laughing and crying, shoulders shaking from the effort.

"Henry?"

The man, smiling through his pouring tears, looked up to see a similar - though slightly subdued - version of his own expression. A few soft tears trailed down Walter's cheeks as his mouth curled into a smile.

"I... I love you."

And every painful moment from this day - from this year - hell, from his whole life, was fucking worth living through, because Henry was in love, and he was loved, something so many people take for granted as a normality in life. They don't consider years of loneliness in a small apartment, or years of agony locked in a prison cell. They don't think of the awkward moments between potential lovers as they try to feel out the water and decide if this other person will hurt them, or hold them protectively through the night. To trust or not to trust? To take a chance, or let fear keep them from ever really living?

For Walter and Henry, this was a night where fear had certainly lost.


End file.
